“Is your dad nearby?” he asked as he scanned the hallway. Rather than afraid he seemed tired and cautious.

“He’s outside herding in the sheep into their pen so that the wolves from the forest don’t make quick pickings of them when he’s asleep.” I said hoping to reassure him. I couldn’t believe he was willing to tell me a secret as big as this.

He looked at me with a somber and assessing look before saying “I’ll tell you, but I can’t say that you’ll believe me.” Saying that he entered the guest’s quarters, waving me in once he’d set down the pack that had been on his back.

I closed the door behind me softly, double checking behind me to assure my father had not silently approached the door while we had been talking. He sat on a stool in the far corner of the room near the small latticework covered window waiting for me to follow suit. I joined facing opposite of him, waiting to hear his story.

“What do you believe is real?” he asked. The question wasn’t what I had been anticipating. I had expected an exposition or narration and not a question.

“Real? Well, I know that I’m real and that my family is real. Everything that can be felt and sensed is real. I don’t know why you’d ask a question like that. I don’t really enjoy the philosophy of preachers and bards. I just want to know where you go.” I said impatiently.

He seemed amused. “You’re certainly not wrong, but many would disagree. What if right now I were to tell you that you’re not real? What if I told you that you’re nothing but a creation of other people?” he proposed, crossing his arms.

It sounded absurd. “Of course, we’re the creation of the gods but not people. If you were to tell me that I’m not real, I’d ask you how we’re conversing. What type of ridiculous question is that?” I asked. His questions sounded like the philosophical ramblings of the hermits that sometimes came through our village wearing nothing more than filthy rugged blankets peddling their useless junk.

“You know me as ‘god-woken’, but what if I told you that I’m nothing more than a simple man? There is nothing significant about me. At least, there isn’t where I come from. In this… world I may be recognized as something different.” He said, leaning back and assessing my reaction.

A god-woken claiming he’s nothing but a normal man? How is that possible? They’re sent here to protect us. “If you’re a normal man then how do you come back from death? How do you disappear from this world on a whim? It’s simply impossible if you were a normal man.” I replied exasperated.

“Have you ever played a game of make believe where you pretend to be something that you’re not?” he asked me flatly.

That questioned seemed out of place. Why would he ask me about games when we’re talking about reality being fake? Does he believe that this world is nothing but a game for him to play? That simply couldn’t be true. “Are you saying that this world is a game?”.

“What if I told you that I’m simply a player within a game that I have not designed? What if I told you that you are nothing but a background character built to further the plot of a story?” he said as he dropped his tone, his voice becoming gravelly.

Those two simple questions shook me more than I could ever believe. He had to be a madman. He simply had to be. If he wasn’t a madman and what he was saying is true it would mean that existence is fabricated; completely meaningless. He was simply insane. But he led an interesting idea. Against my better judgment my curiosity got the better of me.

“I’ll humor this ridiculous and insane idea then. Tell me, what does this fantasy have to do with where you go when you disappear?” I ask with a chuckle, preparing for some unhinged response.

“When I ‘disappear’ as you say I’m exiting the game, or ‘logging out’ as we call it. I’m returning to my home where I get something to eat, take a break, possibly sleep or do some other menial activities such as work and then return to the game whenever I get time to relax.” He responded with a broad grin.

Of all the things I had expected him to say that was certainly one of the more insane ones. Saying that saving a village or helping someone be escorted to another city was simply him entering and playing a game for leisure time was insulting to the maximum. The very idea degraded our existence, reducing us to mere props for the purpose of entertainment. If we were truly props, why would we ever be given the ability to know that we were?

“What evidence do you have of this? What evidence do I have that you’re not insane? Everything you’ve said up until this point is insulting and degrading. By saying that this is a game you’re simply saying that we’re worthless toys to play with.” I nearly shouted, only keeping my voice down to not alert my father.

“I never said you were props. Some of us ‘players’ truly do believe you’re simply props without life or meaning. I however believe otherwise. If I believed you to be a prop, would I be hosting a conversation with you? There would be no point in that. If you were some hollow shell that spouted out quests and basic dialog, I wouldn’t even bother talking to you for a moment. Instead, you’re here talking to me and having a civil, or at least mostly civil, conversation. Does that sound like an insignificant prop? No, rather it’s amazing that you exist in the way that you do and depressing that you’d be considered a prop by other players.” He sighed, lightly rocking in his stool.

His eyes contained far too much sorrow to be joking, but I could only still hope that he was. I was glad to be sitting because hadn’t I been on the stool I would certainly have fallen over in shock.

What point was there, what meaning to anything if everything was false. It stung. It really stung. Every event in my life felt hollow. The wars that were fought would be vapid, the pain others felt nothing but an illusion that didn’t exist.

“If I’m fake then there’s no point in living. There’s no point in regretting a crops failure, or the blunting of a sword, or the breaking of my favorite belt. What the hell should I do now if everything is a meaningless fake world?”

I was on the verge of tears, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak.

“It’s simple. You are who you are, and just because you are in a different world that does not mean that you’re fake. What game creates life? I don’t think it’s possible. I told you because you asked. Simple as that. If you really want to go on the way you are then there’s no harm to it, but now you know where I go when I log off and disappear. Don’t trust those ‘god-woken’ with your all. They’re simply people with agendas like everyone else that you know in your world. Go do what you want. Become what you dream because there’s no point in worrying.” He looked up at the sound of heavy boots entering the house. “I’d recommend you get going. No matter what happens boy, you’re not worthless. Nobody here is worthless.” He said as he began to unpack his bag in silence.

I silently left him to his unpacking, heading for the kitchen. When I arrived there my dad was slicing a cabbage beside a pot of water that he had boiled in the fireplace.

Everything felt surreal. If what he said was true, the water, cabbage, and even the fire was fake. Everything was. It didn’t make sense that everything I knew was a lie. If that was the case there was only sadness ahead of me, the knowledge I had just learned a curse that would likely continue to haunt me.

“Dad, what do you truly think of the god-woken?” I asked my dad, pulling up my chair to watch him slice the cabbage.

“They’re a blessing and a scourge son. It was certainly more dangerous when they weren’t here. But it’s more confusing now that they are. Either way it’s not my problem. Worrying about things too much only benefits your headache.” He threw in the cabbage and began grinding up spices he had collected from the woods.

For the rest of the evening into the night we spoke little. He was carving the figure of an embossed shield, and I was practicing my letters to keep myself literate. It was hard to focus on the parchment. I continued despite the difficulty simply to take my mind off of things.

When the sun was fully set and my candle had reached the bottom of its wick I looked to my dad and asked him, “Can I walk to the village tomorrow? I want to get off of the farm for a while.” He agreed without much thought. It would have been significantly harder to gain his approval had there it been planting or harvest season. We were on the cusp of winter with occasional drafts of chilly air coming through our house. There was little more to do than let the animals graze and keep the house warm. Fortunately, we were well off financially so we needn’t hunt during the winter like some of the desperate folks from the village.

With heavy thoughts on my mind I went to bed, hoping to observe the god-woken when he had left.

* * *

The morning started as most do, with a breakfast of eggs and a glass of warm water. There was nothing to be done aside from let the animals out of their pens. I spent most of my time reading one of the two books we had in our house. Even with only two it was a considerable luxury. Most books would fetch for 20 gold tailos or more, which was one hundred times the monthly salary of any normal farmer.

It was a short story about two lovers fighting great odds to have their love despite the rules of their society. A very plain story that had somehow been defined as treasonous fifteen years ago. My dad had long since quit caring about what was strictly defined as legal or treasonous so I was able to continue reading.

At midday the woken had finally left his room. It was time. I waited for him to leave, putting a considerable delay between when he had left and when I was leaving.

My dad didn’t suspect anything.

Without much difficulty I left the house following the direction the god-woken had gone. He had been heading to the forest where the wolves reign. When I reached the tree line it hit me just how dangerous it was to enter the forests without weapons. I had been told since birth that strange things happened in the forest. I had never been within them, having no reason to go in until now. I knew it was risky, but I had come too far.

I entered the forest, eyes peeled and ears keen to hear even the slightest sign of threat.

Nothing interesting happened for a long while. The sound of cicadas and the crunching of my steps were the only sounds present in the forest. I couldn’t find any traces of him.

After what felt like twenty minutes I was lost, the woken completely out of site and hidden by the green sea of tree trunks. I attempted to wander back but only found myself looping around to where I had first realized I was lost. Screaming out wasn’t an option unless I was willing to become food for the dire wolves.

It was getting dark by the time I had finally found hope. I could hear the crunching of shoes on the fallen leaves. I rushed towards the sound, hoping to see the god-woken that was staying at our guest room.

Instead, I found a man with an extremely long orange beard and dark green moss-colored robes. He carried a staff in his hand and had many bouts of strange multi-colored smoke coming from strange glowing pink symbols within circles on his bald head.

We made eye contact, his glowing gold eyes carrying the glint of madness.

“Friend or foe, man or beast, curious or abandoned?” the man asked, his voice deep enough to make me feel as though my bones were shaking with each word.

“A friendly man who’s lost with curious abandon.” I replied automatically, unable to stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

“Bepen dostor. Keep with you a lantern to hold your soul. Only self lights the darkness of the end.” The strange man replied, bowing his head.

“Endes solorum. In place of soul where light is held is only placed the fool.” I responded thus, unable to control my body, feeling as though I was chained deep within myself. I was terrified and angry, unable to move an inch.

Our eye contact continued for a few minutes until the man snapped his fingers and one of the symbols on his head went dark with its smoke fading. I regained the ability to move my mouth, but I could not move my body.

“I am Elesduran, an old man who likes trees. You have given me your souls honesty. How have you become lost with curious abandon?” he said leaning on his long staff. “What have you done to me?!” I yelled trying my hardest to move my body.

“I’ve bound your body. You will not be harmed, at least by me or anything within the given time you are in contact with me at this moment. I cannot say if you will be harmed for the rest of your life after we have parted ways or meet later if fate so determines. Now, do calm down please. It’s rare to see someone this far into the forest.” The man said, completely dismissing my bubbling anger and fear.

“I’ll calm down once you let me move my body!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

“Wow, you’re very loud. Alright, just don’t do anything stupid. Stupid actions tend to have rational reactions if you catch my meaning.” With another snap of his fingers and fading of smoke and light I regain the ability to move my body.

I don’t attack or attempt to flee. I’m not stupid. This man is clearly a very powerful magic caster. Angering a magic caster is one of the top things on the bad-things-to-try list I had been taught by my dad.

“You’re smarter than you look. Most of the loud ones attack immediately. You’re a smart loud one. Now why are you here?” he asked again.

I don’t think I should frustrate him further, and the truth isn’t a crime. Well, unless you’re admitting to a crime which I’m not doing.

“I came here pursuing a god-woken who is temporarily staying at my father’s farm. I was curious about his daily activities.” I said truthfully, preparing for the caster to do something radical or strange in response.

Instead, his eyes sparkled and his face lit up with curiosity. A large smile played across his face as he reached into his robes to retrieve a long and spiraling pipe as he asked “Now, why would you be so curious about a god-woken?”

Without hesitation I answered truthfully; “I want to see how he goes through his day to gain some insight on whether he’s a trustworthy person.”

He lets out a deep rumbling laugh. “Following a man, you hardly trust through the woods to see if he’s trustworthy is the fastest way to find out he’s able to be trusted most certainly, but it’s quite the gamble. What if he was hostile? You’d be dead in seconds if he was. If he was trustworthy, it would only make you seem paranoid and unhinged or unreasonable. It would be smarter to observe him in an open setting and question him after to see if he tells you the truth of what he had done.” He said as he stuffed his pipe with herbs, lighting it with a flame that came from seemingly nowhere.

I felt like a child being told off by their parents for doing something stupid.

“I’ll tell you what boy. I have an interesting proposition for you. You seem interesting and I’m extremely lonely. Or I’m at least lonely for real people. God-woken pester the crap out of me all the time with questions, seeking quests and rewards or even areas of great power. They’re all in it for personal gain as everyone is, but they seldom stay to chat or talk about anything else that isn’t specifically related to what they’re searching for. They treat me like a box that has all of the magic answers to everything. But I’ll help you learn a thing or two about the god-woken and their behavior if you truly wish to know it.” He said with a toothy grin.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Too many strange events were happening back-to-back. First the god-woken telling me reality itself was a mirage. Now a strange pipe smoking, smoking head bald wizard in the middle of the forest is offering me a bargain to simply socialize with him in exchange for valuable information.

Something seemed to be wrong about this. Acting on suspicion I said, “You’ve come at the perfect time, but your offer seems too good to be true. How could I trust you either?”

“You shouldn’t trust me. Nor should you trust anyone but yourself. I like the way you think and your general wariness. Most people nowadays would agree to just about anything if they felt they had something to gain. Even if that surface level gain resulted in long term loss or failure in some respect. I’ll add another part onto our agreement. If you join me in my home for an entire year, I will teach you the very basic principles of magic. Head deep into the forest once more when you wish to speak with me and agree to come stay with me. Until then I will wait. Follow the gray mushrooms and they will lead you home.” He said as he walked away, chuckling as I lost sight of him in the many tree trunks.

I looked down and saw many bulbous gray mushrooms leading along a trail on the forest floor, peaking through the undergrowth. Slowly I followed them, trying to get away from the caster as quickly but cautiously as possible. Soon after a twenty-minute walk I came to the edge of the forest where I saw the farm.

It seemed that my troubles were not limited to the god-woken guest.